A RAINY DAY.
"OH, mamma, a rainy day! I'm so sorry," sighed Willie.
"Well, Willie, I don't think we must complain. One day of rain after
nearly a month of fine weather, is not so very bad."
"But we are going home in a few days, and perhaps it will rain all the
time," said Willie in a very dismal voice.
"Not at all likely, Willie. I daresay it will be quite fine again in a
day or two. It may even clear up this evening. Come, don't waste time
in gazing out of the window. That will do you no good."
"I have nothing to do, mamma."
"Nothing to do! Where is that nice book papa gave you?"
"I have read it all through, mamma."
"Suppose you draw me a picture then. Here is a pencil, and a piece of
paper."
Willie slowly sat down, and made a few listless strokes, then threw the
pencil on the table, with a yawn.
"I don't know what to draw, mamma. I wish it would stop raining."
"Wishing won't do much good. Draw a picture of a little boy riding
along on a donkey, or digging in the sand, or bathing in the sea."
"Oh, I can't, mamma. I don't know how to draw."
"Come, Willie, don't be pettish. I shall begin to think you have had
too much fun and play, and want to go home again."
"I don't want to go home, mamma," said Willie, looking very downcast.
"I should like to stay at the sea-side."
"Indeed, Willie, I should be sorry for you to do so much longer, if you
cannot bear a single wet day here with good-temper. At home you can be
happy enough when it rains."
"My toys and books are all there, mamma."
"Poor little boy! Well, suppose you come and hold this skein of wool
for me while I wind it. That will be useful, at all events."
Willie did as he was asked, but he did not look any brighter. For a
minute or two Mrs. Gray wound in silence, and then she asked in a
cheerful tone—
"What has Lucy been doing all the morning?"
"Playing, mamma."
"Don't you think she would have been much more happy, Willie, if she
had spent her time in gazing out of the window, longing for the rain to
stop?"
"She doesn't mind staying in doors so much as I do," said Willie,
hanging his head, and looking very much as if he wanted to cry.
"Because, I suppose, she has been too busy to think about it. What a
pity you have not been the same. Take care; you are letting my skein
slip off your hand. Now you must hold it quite tight while I undo this
knot. That is right. What do you think papa said to me this morning?"
"I don't know, mamma."
"He was so glad to see the rain come at last."
Willie looked as if he thought such a remark very strange, to say the
least. Glad to see the rain!
"You don't know why, do you? Rain is very much wanted just now in
England. There has been so little that the grass is getting parched and
dry, and if we were without it much longer, the harvest this year would
be a very bad one."
"I don't like the rain," said Willie, in a low tone.
"Not for its own sake, perhaps; but for the sake of the poor, you ought
to be glad to see it, Willie. It seems very hard to you to be kept in
for one day, when you want to go out. But how do you think you would
feel, if you were a poor little ragged boy, and knew that unless the
rain fell, the corn would not grow, and bread would be so dear all the
winter that you must expect to be often half-starved."
"I shouldn't like it," said Willie. "Are little boys often
half-starved?"
"Very often, when their fathers and mothers have not enough money to
buy all the food they want. And the more the bread costs, the less they
can buy."
"Does it cost more when there isn't much rain?" asked Willie.
"Of course it does, Willie. You know that corn, like grass and plants,
cannot grow without water, and if it has not enough, it is poor and
stunted, and gives only a small supply of flour to make bread. Then
there is less bread than usual, and people have to pay more for it. We
have not had rain now for a long time, and only a day or two ago we
heard that some farmers were very anxious about their corn. They were
afraid that a great deal of it would be quite spoiled."
"Do they want much rain, mamma?" asked Willie, in a very sober tone.
"Not a very great deal, I daresay. But this nice steady down-pour is
just what they wish for. There is one more reason why I never like to
see little boys or girls pettish and cross about the weather. You know
who sends the rain, or makes it fine, Willie?"
"Yes, mamma," said Willie.
"God sends it, Willie, and therefore it must be right, and the best
weather we could have. Even when we cannot see that it is so, we ought
to believe it."
Willie gave a sigh.
"I won't be cross any more, mamma. I'll draw a picture when the skein
is done, and then I'll go and have a game with Lucy. She asked me to
play, and I wouldn't."
"That is right, Willie. I am glad to see a bright face again. For your
sake I hope the rain will not go on long,—not longer than is needed to
make the corn grow."